A Heart as Chipped as My Cup
by DealingDearie
Summary: A series of drabbles revolving around Rumplestiltskin and Belle and the past, present, and future of everyone's favorite couple. *RUMBELLE*
1. Hope

Rumplestiltskin, through and through, was a coward. Running from the war had been his first mistake, since meeting Milah, marrying her, could never be condemned as

one, not when that union gave him Bae. Driving that dagger into an all too human-like chest was his second. His third slip-up, so awful it could be called a sin, was

letting go of his son's hand, watching in utter fear as Bae faded into the portal of green light, his screams of betrayal simmering into painful silence. He could list at least

a thousand after that. He could consider when he ripped Milah's heart out. He could, of course, but he won't. He won't because the two sins of his life outweigh a million

mistakes. His son, the one he released so carelessly, was the only person he ever loved. Other than Belle. Belle was a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness.

She was the hesitation when he laughed, the hitch in his breath, the warmth in his heart. She was everything and he pushed her away, ignored the tears that fell from

her crystalline eyes. She gave him hope that he could be more than a cowardly spinner and he snuffed it all out. The two great sins of his life were so heavy that they

broke him.

**These vignettes were written with the assumption that Belle was mistreated during her captivity and it goes slightly AU a little ways on because God forbid these two should actually have a happy ending in the show. ) All rights got to their respectful owners. Please R&R! Feedback is very much appreciated. **


	2. Guilt

The chalk marks etched into the walls grow every day, reaching out to capture her bruised hands. Her nails are broken, blood crusted on her fingertips from the time

they were torn off. Her eyes, eyes still as blue as ever, are bright in the darkness as she wraps her arms around her knees, trembling with the cold. She should crave

the Queen's blood, make demands for her head, but she feels no hatred toward her captor. She only has the will to survive and a great sense of loss. It's like a cavern

that has no end, no escape. His harsh words echo in her mind, the feel of his hands squeezing her arms as fresh as if his fingerprints were still fading from her pale skin.

She sees his face, contorted with rage, but then she sees him, scaly skin morphing into creamy white, monster turned man. She misses him, longs for the man that

pushed her away and, for a moment, she blames herself. If her hopes hadn't tricked her into believing she could change Rumplestiltskin, she might be staring at him

right now, dusting his odd collections while he spins. He yelled at her and turned her away and broke her heart, but she was foolish and kissed him and acted surprised

at the result. The guilt, then, she thinks as a mouse scurries below her cot, is her burden to bear.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	3. Sorrow

Mr. Gold doesn't mean to drift off, dusting an all too familiar tea cup, but his eyelids grow heavy as he begins to nod off into the warmth of sleep. Her laughter is the

first thing to reach his ears, the sweet melody of her voice echoing into his mind. He sees her smile as she grasps his shoulders, her eyes illuminated with hope, her

cheeks shaded like a rose in the spring. Her chestnut curls bounce along her shoulders as she walks away, her dress tattered and worn. The light cascading from the

windows caresses her face and she giggles at him, a flower in her hand. Tears leak from her eyes as her lips tremble, sorrow etched into her voice, as if he's just now

truly broken her heart. The emptiness of the castle is nothing like it was before. Her presence, or lack thereof, is like a tear in the all-consuming fabric of his life, a tear

that rivals that of Bae's. Gold wakes in a rush, all of his senses on high alert, and he grips the teacup with renewed vigor, tears escaping his copper eyes.

**Please R&R! :)**


	4. Love

The cold, rusted bars of the cage are rough against her palms as she wraps her slender fingers around them. The Queen stands there, delicately adorned in a black satin

dress, and mocks Belle, a spiteful child taunting a fierce lion. Belle shakes her head, pity in her cerulean eyes, and laughs at the woman. "You can't keep us apart

forever." Her voice is heavy with sorrow, but behind her shaking timbre is a confidence that surprises the royal. How sure the girl is of her love for that monster. Regina

laughs, a drawn out, painful sound, and tilts her head with a sharp smile. "I'm sparing you a lifetime of pain and misery." She turns abruptly, her long, black hair flipping

at her back, and rides away on her midnight colored horse. As she gallops away, Belle's voice rings out into the night, raw with determination and unwavering love. "I

will never stop fighting for him!"

**Please R&R! ;)**


	5. Tragedy

The Queen's gaze is cruel, as sharp as a knife and as cold as ice, when Rumplestiltskin looks at her, his heart trapped in a cage of hesitant fear as the walls close in on

him, forever suffocating, forever prolonging his agony.

She smirks triumphantly, a mouse outwitting a snake, and her voice, forever familiar, forever taunting, cleaves

his soul in two.

"You can rest assured I had nothing to do with _that_ tragedy." The way she says it, the glint in her dark eyes, tells him that whatever is to come will be

the most painful thing he's ever had to experience.

The knowledge of Belle's death just might destroy him, he thinks, sobbing over a chipped teacup. Every beat of his heart sends a jolt of pain through his chest and the

only solution, he figures, is to drown out the pain with a silver flask.

Her bright eyes occupy his memories and flash beneath his eyelids when he sleeps, her voice a drifting bane to his existence. He imagines how her laughter would have

sounded, had he lived a long life with her.

He imagines how her lips would have tasted, had he kissed her back. The ghost that haunts his castle has Belle's face and it

take everything he has not to reach out to it.

**Please R&R! :)**


	6. Martyr

The captain might have been a handsome man once, had hatred not corrupted his bright eyes. His lingering animosity runs through his blood and poisons his mind, his

only resolve in the light of devastation. The gun hovers just below Belle's chin, his finger caressing the trigger as threatens her. Her back is pressed against the wall,

fishing nets and hooks surrounding them as they hang by the ceiling. She swallows, her heart trembling with fear, and she stares at the man wronged by

Rumplestiltskin, like most of the town. The revelation that Rumple killed his wife, that he kept that from her, still has her reeling and it takes everything she has to avoid

running. But she needs that shawl. Rumple needs that shawl and she won't let him down.

The near dent on Hook's forehead proves that reading books of adventure can do a woman good and, as she runs across the ship, shawl in hand, freedom is as close as

ever. But then Hook appears, blocking her, creeping ever closer, and she spots Rumple behind him, a strange light in his eyes, and in that moment, Belle knows that she

would be a martyr for this love.

**Please R&R! :)**


	7. Savior

Her hands are warm in his, a comforting reminder of what he'll be coming back to, and the sentiment in her voice nearly makes him cry. He might look down at the

bright neon line painted across the road, an ominous symbol of all that is about to separate them. He might step back over the line and into her welcome arms, her

bright smile filled with love and pride. He might even spare a glance behind her, at the pirate sneaking along the road, a silver gun glinting in the moonlight. But he

won't, of course, because for a moment Rumplestiltskin believed that the world could be kind to him, that life could finally work in his favor. That reluctant belief is

shattered by the piercing echo of a gunshot as blood splatters from Belle's shoulder, her body lurching forward, her shoes brushing the town line, as he folds his arms

around her. His cries are long forgotten in the sudden silence that follows, her name, such a sweet, heavenly name lost to the night as he stares into her pain-stricken

eyes, eye s that once captured his heart with their beauty. He realizes immediately, knows as soon as she looks to him, that Belle doesn't know him. The concern over

her, his one and only savior, the angel that swept down and gave him warmth, and the pain in his heart, leaves him as cold as the crimson blood coating his

fingertips.

**Please R&R! :)**


	8. Chipped

Nothing is everything and up is down. Black is white and white is all she sees. The bright glow beneath her eyelids hums with vigor, or is she humming? She hears a

distant murmur, hushed lilts of hundreds of voices, or is there just one? Just one hand atop her own, a tender caress full of love that she no longer knows. Just one

glance flitting across her face, concern glinting like a diamond. Just one pair of lips pressed to hers, a kiss filled with desperate hope. A piercing awareness rushes

through her senses as her eyelids flutter open, light pouring into her vision as a man hovers over her, his face a mask of hesitant curiosity. She screams, scrambling

back on her bed as he takes a step back, his hands thrown in front of him. Her cries of alarm leave her throat raw and her bright blue eyes glow with terror. The man

now stands a good ten feet from her hospital bed, his brown eyes as sad as a puppy that's just been kicked down. As nurses rush in, charts and clipboards and beeping

of monitors surrounding her, she can't help but stare at the man who looks as if his very soul has been chipped away.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	9. Curtains

The light pouring from the windows cascades down on him as he spins, peeking through the crimson curtains like a curious child. The creak of the wheel is hypnotic,

lulling him into a quiet reverie of bloodied daggers and cloaked little boys with frightened little eyes. Belle toils at the windows, scrubbing long-abandoned grime off the

glass, and he can hear her muttering beneath her breath, something about magic and filth. It amuses him nonetheless and he has to stifle back a giggle at her

annoyance. She has on a different dress today, one with dark leather wrapped around her waist in a sash like manner, held together by a golden clip that branches off

into small, bead-like strings that keep her bodice hanging loosely from her slender frame. The skirts sway back and forth , yellow reflecting the light, and he thinks that

if he were a woman, he would wear just that. The thought catches Rumplestiltskin off guard and he erupts into laughter, maniacal giggles that startle Belle from her

work. Her blue eyes shine with question, but she just smiles and goes back to scrubbing.

**I liked Belle's Rumple-esque outfit in 'The Outsder', so I thought a new outfit in the Dark Castle might suit her, as well. And then Rumple happened. Please R&R! ;)**


	10. Horror

Her eyes are wide, round irises lined with heavenly light, and her lips part in surprise at the sudden change in the air. Hook's gun is aimed straight for her, his finger

pressing against the trigger, and a whine pierces the air, so loud it makes her jump, and yet she still stands. It takes an achingly long moment for her to figure out why

that is until her eyes fall upon the man in front of her, his tailored suit splattered with blood. He is a stranger, almost no one, and yet the look in his eyes as he glances

back at her speaks otherwise. The world turns and everything speeds up as he crumples to the ground, the ever invincible, ever unbreakable, Mr. Gold. Hook's face

lights up with surprise and she breaks into a run, kneeling beside her savior. Blood seeps from the wound in his chest, staining his purple shirt crimson. His mouth

twitches, almost in a smile, she thinks, and she hears him whisper to her, his voice as tender as a lover's melody. "Belle." The name is hollow, meets hollow ears, and

her heart swells with grief because she can't understand, can't know, what he has told her. Horror worms its way into her heart as he closes his eyes. A face flashes in

her mind, of reptilian eyes that send her heart pounding for no reason, and she is not herself, maybe she never was, as she leans in close, pressing her lips against his.

**I think that, since the whole season has been focusing on how Rumple's a coward, it might take Rumple sacrificing himself for his true love for Belle to regain her memories, like when Charming stopped Snow from killing Regina in FTL. Just a thought! Please R&R! ;)**


	11. Impassive

"It's a cup," she says, oblivious to the immense value she holds in her hands. His heart flutters helplessly as her nails tap against the precious porcelain. No matter how

many times he tells her to focus, she remains stubborn, a habit that has carried over the line with her, apparently. Her eyes are lit with caution as she watches him,

warily questioning his claims of magic and castles and another life. He stutters, holding the cup against her hands, and she shakes her head, her voice trembling with

fear. "Just go away!" If words could kill him, he would be lying on the hospital floor, his almond eyes glassy against the blinding white of the walls. The cup flies through

the air as she flings it, shattering against the opposite wall. The fragile pieces scatter across the floor, shards lying broken, just like his heart. As he leaves, the distant

memory of a monster screaming at a maiden coming to haunt his ancient mind, her eyes trail him, impassive to what she has just done.

**I hated this scene! R.I.P Chip. Please R&R! ;)**


	12. Suffering

Her cerulean eyes widen, her breath coming in short gasps, as she pulls her face from his, memories flooding her mind as they return to her, her own long lost

moments. Rumplestiltskin is, for the first time in his life, silent as he rests in her arms, his eyes closed, and his face ashen against the harsh sunlight that cascades upon

them. Worry stabs at her heart as she tries desperately to reach him, to grasp him as he remains so unbearably far from her. She feels the sting of tears as they leak

from her eyes. She grabs his head in her hands, hopelessly trying to wake him, and she kisses him over and over again, her whole body trembling with the possibility

that he might not wake up. She stares at her true love, man turned monster and monster turned man, and a tight feeling surrounds her heart, a snake coiling around

her so she can endure this suffering for all eternity. Sobs crawl up her throat just as Rumplestiltskin takes a shuddering breath, his bright eyes flying open.

**I hope this happens (but we all know it probably won't; why would it be that easy?). Please R&R! ;)**


	13. Delight

Her dress is bright, the jewels resting across her chest shining in the murky light of her father's castle, and even if Rumplestiltskin did not overly appreciate pretty

things, he would still take a second glance. Her dark tresses fall across her shoulders in wavy ringlets, her ocean deep eyes glinting with intelligence. Her father looms

before her, a giant guarding his treasure, and the urge to make a deal pushes the words out of the Dark One's mouth before he even has time to stop himself. "My

price…is her." The words send a sighing ripple through the air as the knight that stands so close to the girl puts a protective arm across her torso, shoving her back as if

he owns her, as if she is anything but the striking princess she is. Her eyes shine as her father's booming voice echoes throughout the castle. Rumplestiltskin turns, his

leather boots sliding against the decaying marble floor, and he feels a smile pulling on his face. He knew the moment he came to this castle that he would leave with a

new trinket and so he slows his stride, gives her time to decide something that was decided long ago, and stops when her voice cuts through the tension in the air. Her

voice, so much like honey that lures flies to their deaths, sends a surge of delight into his charred, blackened heart. "No, wait!" Her footfalls match his as they leave and

Rumplestiltskin suddenly entertains the thought of two teacups on his table, the soft sound of another's breathing, and even the rosy scent that lingers in her hair.

**Please R&R! :)**


	14. Bittersweet

The hard press of the book cover in her hands relaxes her, makes her feel safer than she's felt in years, and she sighs at the feeling. The dust of the library is finally

drifting out the windows and she smiles as she looks around her at the hazy light pouring in. Rumple shifts beside her, a constant reminder of all that she has gained.

His eyes glint with reserved sorrow, a constant reminder of all that she has lost. He no longer smiles as wide, or laughs as hard, or kisses as fiercely as he used to. The

loss of his son is fresh and aching in his heart and she can only watch as he struggles to maintain a level of sanity. She snuggles closer to him, acts as if they could melt

into one another, and he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace. Belle must give him time, she knows, for the shine in his eyes to return, but as she stares at her

true love, she knows they share the same haunting thought. The fact that the miraculous return of her memory took the enormous sacrifice of Rumplestiltskin's son is

almost too bittersweet to comprehend. Belle sniffles and Rumple holds her tighter, preparing to face the day with forced smiles and empty laughs.

**I don't really like Neal all that much. Don't get me wrong, I do ship him with Emma and I think he has good chemistry with her, but as Bae, my expectations for him were a bit higher. Maybe I'll get used to Adult!Bae and end up liking this new version (AKA Neal). Who knows? I wrote this with the idea that Bea/Neal had sacrificed himself for his father and was ultimately the reason Rumple got in front of the bullet meant for Belle in 'Horror'. Sorry if it's confusing! Please R&R! :)**


	15. Thankful

Rumplestiltskin's wife sits on their dark blue sofa, her hand resting across her swelling stomach as the television flickers to life, illuminating her features in a rose-gilded

glow. Behind her, on a pedestal all its own, is a fragile teacup, worn by time, with delicate spider web cracks decorating its glossy surface. The sunlight that pours from

the windows gives it a golden halo, shining against the dried glue that hangs in an eternal drip as it leaks from the cracks. The One that is no longer Dark stares at this,

this perfect moment captured in his mind, and the most contented sigh he's ever hear escapes his lips. Belle looks up and smiles and instantly the Dark Castle surrounds

them, a chipped cup cradled in her trembling hands. She's falling into his arms and he's holding his breath. She's kissing him with such gentleness, naïve hope

brightening her smile. He's wrapping her in his arms, her laughter filling his ears. She's tugging him away from a memory-drowned pirate ship. He's hovering over her, a

cautious kiss filled with all the love he can muster. She's handing over a super glued teacup and the significance is not lost to her. He's twirling her in the air as they

embrace, a ring sparkling on her slender finger. She's swallowing tears and her white dress nearly blinds him. He's whispering how thankful he is that he found her

between heated kisses. She's resting against the pillows, the very image of a sleepy angel. Belle's voice pulls him back , her stare curious, and he sees her in a golden

gown fit for a goddess. Rumplestiltskin can only smile and let the memory take him.

**I do enjoy happy endings! Please R&R! ;) Thanks for reading!**


	16. Sword

The pommel is smooth in Belle's hand, smooth and slick and so very foreign. She swallows as Rumple's murmurs sound behind her, his hand on top of hers as he guides her arm through the moves, slashing through the air and stabbing at an invisible enemy.

She should chide him on how slow he's going, give him a speech about how she knows how to use a sword and he's not the only one with past adventures, but the words come up short as the sun sparkles against the silver blade, reflecting a purple sheen. Belle's eyes widen with understanding and she slips out of Rumple's grasp, sword in hand, and points it at his chest with such speed that he blinks in dazed surprise.

"You're using magic!" Belle exclaims angrily, her eyes narrowed. He smiles easily, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "I charmed the blade so you wouldn't end up impaling yourself in the next part of our training," he assures her, a sly smirk coming across his reptilian features. The comment, undoubtedly honest, gives her pause as she raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh? And what would that be?"

She really should have known better, she thinks as he pulls a sword from midair, no doubt from one of the many air pockets he has hidden about the realm, and taps it against her own, giggles erupting from his lips.

"Combat," he states, nearly knocking the sword out of her hand as he charges, barely giving her enough time to duck his blow. She has to keep in mind that he won't truly hurt her, but that's nearlyimpossible with how many hits she's having to parry, rolling across the ground with clumsy grace, and running behind a tree, her heart pounding.

She hears his boot fall across a twig, effectively snapping it in two, and she leaps out to attack him, her wrist twisting as their swords lock. His face comes inches from touching hers and she smirks as she grabs his hand, holding it in place as she takes the sword from it with her free hand, and she crosses the blades at his throat, shining triumphantly. Rumple smiles at her, then, and the swords dissipate into purple fog that is carried off with the wind.

Belle should analyze that smile, look for traces of mockery, but she sees only pride written in the depths of his eyes and finds her own face splitting with happiness as she laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You let me win," she whispers into his ear.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	17. Black

If he could pick a color to somehow symbolize everything Belle ever stood for, it would be blue. Blue, as deep as any ocean and as bright as any summer sky, or

perhaps as blue as her eyes, such beautiful eyes filled with all the love he doesn't deserve. Blue, like the blue of her dress as it sways in the wind or even the blue of

their child's eyes, as innocent as her first breath and as glorious as her laughter. Blue, as the soft sheets he wraps himself in at night, or perhaps the puddles Belle is

always so careful to avoid, her cautious expression laughable. Blue, as breathtaking and magnificent and awe-inspiring as heaven itself. Life without her, though, would

be black. As black as the darkest midnight sky, where monsters and demons and ghosts tread with their burning eyes. As black as his soul would have been had he not

met her, or as black as the dirt was when the portal of green light took Bae away from him forever. Black, darker than hell itself, would be the end of him.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	18. White

Rumplestiltskin wonders, not for the first time, how a single room can be so blindingly, glaringly, rudely white. How can people even see in here? They chatter on to one

another, laughing, bubbly, even, pulsing with the energy of his wedding. _Is it hot?_ He tugs on his shirt collar_. It's definitely stifling in here. Jesus, how can anyone even _

_breathe? How can I breathe? Am I breathing? What if I try so hard to breathe that I stop breathing? What good is a dead husband?_ A tap on his shoulder pulls him out of

his spiraling thoughts and he turns to see Charming behind him, an easy smile on his face. "It'll be fine. I was nervous on my wedding day, too. Everything will be fine,

Rumplestiltskin," he reassures quietly. For the first time in his long life, Rumple relaxes at the man's words, forever wondering how in the world he changed so much, or

how he gained a friend in the process. The music scares him half to death as it cuts through the air, blaring out of speakers and past piano keys. He turns sharply,

annoyed and ready to cover his ears, and holds his breath as the mahogany double doors swing open. _Oh, right, _he thinks, remembering _exactly _how he changed, _Belle_.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	19. Glass

Henry isn't as annoying as Gold originally assumed, having gotten to know his grandson in a different light, but he still has his bad days. The boy is eager to speak in

any situation and clutches that book like a lifeline, tenderly flipping the pages as he drinks in every detail about their old lives. He especially likes the one about a beauty

that tamed a beast and this fact wouldn't be so bad…if Henry only kept it to himself. But, no. He parades around their small town and flings the story in people's faces,

enthusiastically and effectively embarrassing the living hell out of Storybrooke's town menace. The worst part is that people listen. They hang on his every word,

wanting to know everything they possibly can about the tender side of Mr. Gold. So far, no one has been brave enough to confront him about it. He's very glad his

reputation sticks. No one would dare, he thinks smugly as he sits behind one of the many glass cases in his shop, dusting an old trinket. "I've heard quite the story, Mr.

Gold." A sudden voice interrupts the silence, followed quickly by the jangling of the bell above the door. Gold would be extremely ticked to the third degree, and Henry

would definitely hear it, had this voice belonged to any other person in the entire universe. But it doesn't and Gold smiles tenderly as Belle walks in, sashaying up to the

case to put her hands over his. "Try not to chew the boy out, Rumple," she whispers, as if reading his thoughts. Gold gives her a look and she shakes her head at him.

_I'm not making any promises. _

**_Please R&R! ;)_**


	20. Anger

Her kiss is soft, feather light against his lips, and the sigh that escapes him is as involuntary as the urge to kiss her back, to wrap his arms around her and never let her

go. A surge of nausea hits him, a wave of _something_ crawling across his body, and Belle's relieved smile sets him on edge. "What's happening?" Rumplestiltskin asks

groggily, dazed from the kiss and muddled from whatever's going on. Her hands come up to slide down his neck, gripping his shoulders with happiness. "Kiss me again!

It's working!" Her exclamations pull him out of his trance and he blinks, wary confusion setting in. "What is?" "Any curse can be broken!" Her rose red blush should be

captured in his memory, an eternal imprint of such amazing youth, and her smile should haunt his dreams for the next 30 years, her voice drifting into his mind every

time he closes his eyes, because that's what he deserves for what he is about to do, anger flushing out all of the love in his blood, turning his heart black with rage.

**Please R&R! ;) Feedback is very much appreciated! **


	21. Strings

Belle never truly forgave Regina. She never stopped having nightmares of a black eyed demon with the queen's voice and she never stopped herself from shaking whenever the woman came into view. No matter how hard Rumple tried, the memory of her captivity stuck with her for a long time. Until one day, when Rumple had an idea.

Her birthday was quickly approaching and so he gave her a small box wrapped in baby blue paper on the day before she turned 31. Her smile was bright, he remembers, but when she opened her gift, confusion settled into her eyes. For there, snuggled in the delicate paper, was a small doll that in every way resembled the Evil Queen herself. He pointed to it then, laughter creeping into his voice, and smiled. "You only need will it, and all will be well."

Belle left his shop later that evening, the doll resting in her purse, and she was still as confused as ever.

Later that night, the nightmares snuck up on her and she woke with a scream caught in her throat, wishing with everything she had that….all would be well. Belle tilted her head as a thought hit her. She crept into her kitchen, digging for the doll in her cluttered purse, and sat down at the table, staring at Rumple's gift.

Knowing him, something awful would probably happen to Regina if she poked it with a needle and, not that she would mind, she just didn't need to be on that woman's hit list a second time. So, Belle closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, to forget about the nightmares and torment and long nights spent shivering, and how Regina used her like a puppet on so many fraying strings, and her palm started to itch.

She opened her eyes to find that the doll was no longer there, but in its place the most beautiful rose she'd ever laid eyes on, with stark white petals that were soft to the touch. She ran her fingers down the stem absentmindedly, pricking her finger on one of the sharp thorns, and cried out in pain. Before she could blink, the rose fell from her hand and her head dropped to the table, her eyelids fluttering closed as she fell into a deep slumber.

When morning finally came, Belle woke with a clear mind, one free of nightmares and torment and long nights spent shivering and, especially, one without fear of the dark eyed queen. She carefully picked up the rose and smelled the tender petals, smiling to herself like she hadn't been able to in years.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	22. Shining

A woman creeps into Gold's shop, her bright blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that pours from the windows, and she closes the door quietly, trying as hard as she

possibly can not to sound the bell. The pawnbroker is strangely absent and she sighs in relief, quickly walking across the small space from the door to the cases, and she

stops in front of a display of two wooden puppets, leaning against one another, their small, flawed faces captured in an eternal scream, and she shivers as she reaches

into her purse. She carefully pulls out a porcelain tea cup, small and more fragile than ever, and she runs her finger over the chip at the rim, the edges a bit off because

she's not particularly skilled in the art of super-gluing. Her hands shake with fear as she sets it down on one of the cases, the various cracks and missing chunks glinting

in the light, or shining, she thinks, shining like the most beautiful sunset she's ever seen, and she sighs.

**CHIP! Please R&R! ;)**


	23. Green

Bae's eyes were, _are_, green, as green as the darkest emerald shining in the sunlight, and Rumple has to catch his breath every time he comes upon the color, his heart

pounding against his ribs at the ghost of fear washing over him. Of course, the Dark One is not fearful; he creates fear and never feels an ounce of fright, of ice cold

horror that runs through the blood as easily as water. He is confident and brave and cruel and every single rumor that floats in the air, spoken from trembling lips,

hesitant to speak his name for fear of him turning up in front of them, an evil glint in his inhuman eyes. But Rumplestiltskin is not confident because he crawls into

himself at night, where his demons come out to play, and he shakes from the cold within him. He is not brave because every fight he's ever fought has been with magic,

the amazing power of his curse, and the coward within him recoils at the thought of a world without it. He is not cruel because the shred of humanity left inside of

him fell deeply, madly in love with the beauty that crashed into his life, the man within him whispering words of encouragement, and he did not kill her when she

chipped a tea cup. He is not what they say, though what they say is what he is, and Rumplestiltskin wears two masks his entire life, one man that tries to save the world

and one monster that steals your soul. So, since the Dark One is not (is) fearful, he searches (scours) for those familiar (strange) green eyes staring back at him with all

the love (hatred) in the world, hoping (praying) with all that he has (his life) that it's not (it is) too late.

**I have no idea if Bae's eyes are green or not, but let's just assume they are. ;) Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! **


	24. Electricity

When first he kisses her, the fire within him stirs like a sleeping creature, lying dormant for hundreds of years until the sun shines on its face, pulling it from slumber.

When he makes a promise he knows he won't, can't, keep, the fire lights within them both, magnetic pulls between them, eyes screwed shut and arms wrapped so

tightly around the other that they nearly meld together. The comforting kiss that comes next is casual; light hearted and ignorant of the future. The kisses after are

reassured, trust filled, loving in every way he never thought possible, and every bit a taste of heaven, a small glimpse into the life of an angel. She stands with him,

clinging to his hands as they hover just before the town line, smiles and goodbyes and laughter floating in the night, and the electricity that sizzles between them as

they lean into one another is perhaps the best feeling in the world, love so strong that it inspires him to be better. He can almost feel her lips against his, true love the

one thing he'll never get tired of in all the years to come, and a gunshot pierces the air as she falls against him, her arms dangling, limp, around his shoulders, the

electricity that ran so high between them now dissipating into the moonlit night.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	25. Blade

Cora is a chilling force, the dagger clutched in her aged hand, her eyes glowing with insatiable greed and power that rivals that of the Dark One himself. The woman that is no longer Belle swallows in fear, her hair flying around her face as gale-force winds rip past trees, tearing everything in their small town apart. The mayor laughs, her dark eyes vibrant with something the woman can't quite place, and the friend she used to know stands beside her, her eyes glittering amber, or is that just the light?

The man that she's come to know as Mr. Gold stands in front of Neal and Emma tries her best to shield Henry from the storm brewing with purple smoke and fire and the smell of brimstone that makes her think she might have just stepped into hell. Cora lifts the dagger in the air, the man with the hook staring up at it greedily as he stands beside her, and she smiles; a cruel, twisted gesture that sends shivers of warning slithering down not-Belle's spine.

Is the knife…glowing?

"By the power of the Dark One", and Mr. Gold takes a step forward, either in warning or in shock, she's not completely sure, his face a mask of panic as his eyes dart around blindly, hopelessly searching for a way out, "I command thee," Cora purrs, her voice as smooth as honey yet as rough as sandpaper, her face lit up with glee.

Mr. Gold stops, then, and Neal takes Emma's hand and pulls her behind him, keeping Henry there beside her as he slowly backs away from his father, his eyes wide with fear as he watches the only man he's ever loved, the only father he's ever known, turn dark with magic, his eyes swirling into a black as dark as midnight, his face going slack and emotionless.

Regina cocks her head, her lips parting in disbelief as Mr. Gold drops his cane, smoothly walking over to Cora, his black eyes trained on the name written on the ancient blade in her hands, once tainted with deep crimson blood against a desperate night sky.

**Please R&R! :)**


	26. Snow

Mr. Gold-or Gold, or Rumple, or Rum, or Rumpilicious, or RuRu, or any other name his family can concoct for him-stares out his bedroom window to find that it actually snows in Storybrooke. He nudges his long time wife and she murmurs in her sleep, her words jumbling together and slurring to make a single noise, and she turns over in the bed, her back facing him.

He rolls his eyes with a smile, crawling out of bed before his 5 year old daughter can come crashing down around them, hopping on pillows and throwing up sheets as she screams over the snow, her excited chatter as incomprehensible as anything he's ever heard. But she comes anyway, as powerful as a tidal wave and as cheerful as a rainbow, smiling up at him with a gap in her mouth from where she lost her two front teeth, her cheeks pushed up and her dimples showing.

Her bright blue eyes look illuminated from the inside out and her dark, wavy curls bounce as she hops all over her mother, laughing and begging the woman to get up as fast as she can. Belle takes a moment to pick herself up and slip into her house shoes, throwing a coat over her pajamas and a cap over her unruly bed head, as she smiles at him, love written so plainly in her stare.

Gold follows her, his hand in hers as they trail their daughter to the front door. He makes sure that she's safely tucked into her coat, gloves, boots, and cap and sees her off as she darts into the snow, throwing it up in the air and catching the flakes with her tongue, her hands spread out on either side as she flops onto the ground, trying to make a snow angel as best she can.

Belle's laughter vibrates against his chest as she leans into him, his chin resting on top of her head, and he smiles, watching his daughter with wonder in his eyes.

Mr. Gold-or Gold, or Rumple, or Rum, or Rumpilicious, or RuRu, or any other name his family can concoct for him-feels tears prick his eyes as he sees his little girl, her face lit up with childish joy, her eyes glowing just as similar eyes once glowed, a woman making a deal with the devil.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	27. Night

Despite the bright stars twinkling down on them, standing out against the midnight sky, Rumple can't sleep. He can't even get a blink of rest because Belle is beside him, tossing and turning in her sheets and clutching her pillow as tightly as she can, her eyes rapidly fluttering beneath her eyelids, sweat trickling down her forehead. He watches her, the glint of concern in his eyes, and frowns.

She never had such night terrors in the Dark Castle. What awful demons within Belle could chase her into the very dreams they're supposed to stay away from? She mumbles something, something most decidedly about _Regina_, and it takes all the willpower Rumple has left not to go out and kill the woman.

He gently shakes Belle's shoulders, trying to pull her out of whatever dreamscape she's running through, and she nearly screams as her eyes fly open, her breaths hitching and catching in her throat as her heart races in her chest. He watches her carefully, pulling her into his arms as she wraps her own around his neck, pressing her cheek to his chest.

She could say that it was horrible and frightening and far too real for her liking, but the words lose themselves on her tongue and she closes her eyes, comforted by his warm, loving embrace, and he pats her hair, squeezing her as tightly as she needs him to, until they both fall into a well needed slumber.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	28. Journey

Gold clings to the shawl, his hands wrapped so tightly around it that his knuckles are white, and Belle can't help but feel happy for him. The promise of Bae is almost tangible and Gold's excitement rushes through the air, getting her caught up in it, as well.

Her hands are resting on top of his, a warm reminder of her love, a love that burns like the light in her eyes, like a sunset that won't ever fade into night. Her laughter is contagious and he smiles at her between chuckles, his eyes more radiant than he's ever seen as he comes from behind the counter to wrap his arms around her.

She rubs his back reassuringly, grinning from ear to ear, holding him as close as possible. "This is my journey, Belle," he says, his voice quivering with emotion, and she nods.

"I know."

It truly is his journey, she thinks, one that will redeem him completely, and when he returns, she'll be waiting for him, forever his keeper, forever his price.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	29. Demon

Mirrors, true mirrors, were a luxury. The kind with fancy borders and metallic shine that glinted in the sunlight were nearly priceless in his day and a spinster's son could never hope to afford one. That is, a spinster's son that was not the Dark One.

As soon as his power became known, and feared, the wealth poured in, rags replaced with rich clothing, glass standing against the wall replaced by mirrors following him down the hallway.

Bae never seemed to like them. He would hover alongside his father, his eyes never wavering from the path ahead of him, and he would furrow his brow as they passed a mirror, his face red and his stare lit with subdued rage. Rumplestiltskin never really understood why his son got that way around mirrors, but as he stares into one, the wake of Belle's departure tearing his heart in two, a sudden revelation comes to him.

His eyes are dark, large irises resting within shadowed sockets, his skin looking far too akin to scales, and he notices the look of rage, or perhaps subdued rage, burning within his eyes, eyes that suddenly morph into bright green, a young face darkening with anger as he stares back at his reflection. Bae's memory haunts him, even in this moment, and as Rumplestiltskin returns to himself, he wonders how he never saw it before.

His son could barely stand to see his father's reflection, the demon grinning back at him in the mirror with the fancy borders and metallic shine, and now Rumplestiltskin can't even look at himself.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	30. Stars

The room is silent, the wind mercifully quiet as it kisses the windows, and Rumple, for once in his life, feels light.

The air going in and out of his lungs is melodic, he thinks, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, and hope to breathe out, pray for another moment with his eyes wide open, blood seeping from the wound in his chest as he watches them all-Henry, Emma, and Bae-flounder about, hovering over him in a frenzy, worry etched into his son's deep eyes.

Emma presses a bandage to his wound, trying in vain to quell the crimson liquid staining his shirt. His eyes flutter closed, his breaths halting every few seconds, as a new wave of pain washes over him, like a cleansing rain that sends shards of ice down on him, piercing his skin without mercy. Without mercy, like the hook that came his way, like the man wielding it, his eyes burning with the lust for revenge.

Or maybe with mercy, Rumplestiltskin thinks, the sorrowful coward within him settling into his skin with a sigh, shoulders relaxing as something holds him, soft feathers against his suit, against his cheek, like some kind of angel.

He opens his eyes, choosing to ignore how hard it is to do even that, and Belle stares down at him, smiling like she always used to, her eyes as sharp as diamonds, and he closes them again. He lets the sound of their voices fade; the panicked tone of Henry, the hurried, nearly mechanical timbre of Emma, and the pitiful wail of his son, echoing into a blur of nothing, overshadowed by the beauty he sees.

Let him be with her, he pleads, let Mr. Gold and Rumplestiltskin hold Belle in his arms one last time, and he might be happy, he thinks.

He might be happy to release the angry memory of Bae, his face enraged, or the frightened look twinkling in that woman's eyes, that woman with Belle's face, the one with her voice and her eyes and her smile, but not her memory, not her heart.

He might be happy to fade into that book, just another page flipping at Henry's small fingers, just another word written down.

He might be happy, gloriously, unabashedly, undoubtedly, unbelievably happy, to dwindle into the stars that hang in the night sky, twinkling like beacons of hope as Belle looks up at them, the spark of a ghost shimmering in her sapphire eyes.

**I know this isn't how that scene will play out, but the sneak peek made me want to write this. Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	31. Flowers

The sunlight dances on his headstone, light rays of sunshine crawling across the marble, slithering into the engraved words, and the woman stares at the sight, in awe of such beauty. Her bright eyes widen at the inappropriate thought, considering that she's standing on a grave, and the drizzle of rain falls on top of her long lashes, making her blink. She pulls her coat tighter around her body as the harsh January wind crashes into her, lifting her russet hair around her face, strands shining amber in the murky sunlight that peeks between the dark clouds.

Her breaths shudder with the chill as she reads the epitaph.

_Mr. Gold_.

She tilts her head, wondering why there aren't any more words, until she spots small scribbles at the bottom, concealed by dead grass, and she struggles to read it.

_Rumplestiltskin, devoted father, true love, and brave. _

The words aren't even coherent, she thinks, and she narrows her bright eyes, the name tossing up memories in her mind, memories of a black haired woman uttering that name like a curse. She shakes her head, trying as hard as she can to rid her head of those bright flashes of _something_, something with leather and dusters and curtains that are nailed to the wall, smiles and deals and…and…-She sighs in exasperation as the memory flees from her grip, so close and yet so very far, just as it always has been.

She bends down, her knees almost brushing the muddied soil, and runs her fingers down that name, that name that has always jogged something loose within her, and wonders why she even came here, to the grave of a man she barely knew, as she gently sets the flowers she's been holding on the ground, placing them so that they hide that name.

The roses are bright red against the cloudy sky, as deep as blood, and a wave of roses and giggles and fluttering heartbeats hits her before she can stop it. She stands up quickly, turning her back before another memory has the chance to evade her, and looks to the sky as it sobs cold tears, drops falling on her face, running down her cheeks as they mingle with her own tears, sadness creeping into her heart at all the things she knows she must have lost.

She gazes back at the roses and sighs, the spark of a ghost shimmering in her sapphire eyes.

**Riding on the 'this is really AU' train once again and this ties into the last one, if you didn't realize. Please R&R! Feeback is always appreciated! ;)**


	32. Pain

Belle had always been a curious child, one to sneak along corridors, eavesdropping on the gossiping servants as she worked her way down the hall, slipping in and out of council meetings she was not welcome in, grabbing the biggest books to see if they were more interesting, even sticking her hand in a fire a couple of times. Her father had admonished her severely for that one, angered by her claim of wanting to know what pain felt like.

Now, she thinks, she would much rather stick her hand in a fire.

That's at least some kind of physical pain, like the kind she felt at the Queen's hand, or the kind she felt as the Dark One wrapped his hands around her arms, his black nails biting her skin. Physical pain is what Belle can handle; it's what she knows she can deal with.

But this?

This pain takes her to her knees, brings her low and pulls her even lower, and crushes everything she ever carried within her, shakes her up inside and leaves her a broken mess. It makes her sick, tears streaming down her cheeks until she gives out, drained to the core , and it ruins her, kills her spirit and drowns her heart with breath-catching, life-stopping sorrow.

It makes her yearn for the Dark One, makes her yearn for that physical pain that he made her feel, that pain that hurt her and shook her and made her cry. She yearns for him because he is not there, he is not there to fill all these empty spaces in her life, and the roses lying on his grave mean the world to her now, the name she so carelessly shrugged off more important than her own life.

She yearns for anything he could ever give her, be it the laughing man or the smirking monster, because he's not there to wipe away her tears and quell this aching hole in her heart.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	33. Voice

For the longest time, Bae filled his head, slipping into his thoughts like water and sneaking into his heart with all the sharpness of a knife. He couldn't close his eyes, couldn't breathe, without seeing that small smile, those deep eyes staring back at him with love and adoration. He couldn't make a deal without thinking about the only one he'd every broken, the only one that had ever mattered at all, and it broke his heart every time. His years were filled with torment, Bae hovering close behind him, his presence always so powerful, but when Rumplestiltskin turned, his son was never there.

His life was one endless cycle of Bae; think of him, no, don't think of him. Rumplestiltskin was ready to repeat the cycle, walking down a hall and past a room once occupied by the most lovely person he'd ever had the chance of knowing, but instead of Bae, he felt Belle, and he heard her gentle voice as it carried across the hall with him, knew her to be there and knew that in itself to be false.

Her ghost hovered just as Bae's once did, her lovely blue eyes taking his place, and he felt all the worse for realizing that she had, in essence, taken his place as ghost of the castle.

It nearly felt like a betrayal, one too great for Rumplestiltskin to handle, but he was powerless to stop her melodic voice, her soothing presence, even if the woman was long gone, finally off on adventures he would only keep her from, her heart broken but healing, and that, though agonizingly painful for him to accept, made her absence all the better, knowing that she could have what he could never have given her; happiness.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! :)**


	34. Eyelashes

The Dark Castle seems to be growing fonder of sunlight, willingly letting it seep through the red curtains in their large bedroom, and for once he doesn't mind as it cascades down on them, making Belle's hair shine amber.

Her pale arms are thrown over her pillow, her soft lips parted with sleep, and he has to stifle the giggles before he makes the mistake of waking her this early in the morning. Her eyelids flutter with dreams and he can't help but run a finger down her cheek, his nail grazing the smooth skin there, and he glances up at her hairline, running the other fingers through her wavy locks, admiring the color, relishing in the feel of it in his hands, amazed at how she can be so perfect, how he ever did anything to deserve her.

The tips of her long eyelashes twitch as her eyelids move and he quickly pulls his hand back as she wakes up, blinking away the light and giving him a sleepy, confused smile, scratching her face, running clumsy fingers through her hair, touching all the places he touched her as if it tickles, and he can't hold the giggles from her any longer.

Belle looks at him, tilting her head in curiosity.

"What's so funny?"

He can't bring himself to say that it's her.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	35. Water

Mr. Gold is her life force, a presence so powerful that it grounds her and gives her all the strength in the world, that first taste of blessed water after a lifetime of nothing, and she doesn't know how she would have survived without it, how she would have lived her life had the imp not come to her castle, the threat of war pushing concern to desperation.

She doesn't know how she would have continued on, had he not caught her when she fell off the ladder, had he not stared at her with such tenderness.

She doesn't know, and doesn't want to know, because his hand is in hers, his grip ever unyielding, and his laugh is more like the Rumplestiltskin she knew from back home, high pitched and genuine, and she knows that his laughter, this true laughter that escapes him every now and then, is meant for her and her only.

Bae might hold a place in her love's heart, and rightfully so, but she occupies the other half, takes joy in the fact, and always will. Mr. Gold, the feared pawnbroker, holds her hand as they eat cheeseburgers in his shop, laughing at a joke she remembered from one of her books, a smudge of ketchup at the corner of his mouth, and at the thought of anyone being afraid of him, Lacey erupts into laughter herself, warm and genuine, just like the Belle he knew from back home.

**Since Belle's counterpart is most likely 'Lacey', I wanted to write one with them being all fluffy, but based on those set pictures I have a feeling that "fluffy" isn't going to happen anytime soon. Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	36. Clouds

The picnic looks wonderful, the scent of steaming food making Gold's mouth water, and he stares at Belle, smiling the widest smile he can manage. She laughs as they sit down on the dewy grass, knowing he's already eaten today, shaking her head at his starving look.

Emma and Bae look over from a nearby table and the birds of the park erupt into hundreds of chirps, flying out of trees and scaring Henry half to death, his parents laughing as he nearly jumps out if his seat.

Tension is high, thanks to a recent argument, and Gold decided that it would be best if he gave his son some distance, so the two sit quite a ways apart, both with the people they love. Bae chews on his sandwich and watches his father smile like he hasn't smiled in hundreds of years, his laughs so real that they almost pull Bae back into the memory of his father, true happiness lighting his very human, very kind face.

Bae sighs at the image and Emma places a hand on his, a comforting gesture that makes him smile at her.

Belle looks over to them as Gold talks, animated, about an especially pleasant deal he made today, and she smiles at the three, the very picture of a family, and her heart swells with joy as she looks back on all they've accomplished- Rumple and Bae- together, as it always was meant to be.

She glances up at the white clouds, looking like cotton thrown into the deep blue sky, and her eyes glint with love as Gold grabs her hand, leaning forward to kiss her, pulling her far from her thoughts and into his loving embrace.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	37. Home

Belle wraps her arms around Gold's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder as he stares at her in the mirror, his eyes shining with stifled laughter.

Their daughter rushes in, all bouncing curls and glowing eyes as she tries her best to pull herself up on the sink counter, grinning up at them as Belle laughs, bending down to pick the child up and set her on the counter, where she stares up at her father with wide, expectant baby blues shining like the sun.

Gold laughs and moves his hand in the air, a gesture so familiar to Belle that it sparks a hundred memories, and a wave of purple magic washes over him as his features morph, brown eyes turning reptilian, smooth skin sparkling with flecks of gold and green as his family watches with interest, just as they always do.

Their daughter claps her tiny hands, giggling, and reaches up to press a palm against his cheek.

Belle presses her own against his shoulder blades , beaming at him in the bathroom mirror, and thinks that she missed that face, missed that laugh and those eyes and that smile, but she sighs and the memory of it all, the memory of roses and chipped cups and castles, washes away like grains of sand beneath the tide.

The new memories, memories of brown eyes and gold-capped teeth and her true home, are enough to transcend time, moments between them lost within the sparkling depths of her daughter's bright blue eyes.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	38. Smoke

Rumpllestiltskin is not one to be surprised.

He sneaks up on the unsuspecting, the calm people that need to be frightened every once in a while, one of which is Belle, his caretaker in nearly every sense of the word. She stays at the stove 3 meals a day, toiling in the steam and scent of food that wafts through the air, and she never sees him coming, no matter how many times he's done it or how long she's been his caretaker, it doesn't matter.

Belle is like a shaky little mouse when he appears behind her, all purple tendrils of magic and high pitched giggles that really shouldn't come out of someone like _him_, someone dark and lithe and lethal, and yet Belle finds the gasp turning into her own sound of laughter, a smile splitting her face in two. He's always the one to surprise her, never the other way around.

Until Belle decides to try a new dish for dinner, attempting to hide her failures with a cracked open window, fanning the black smoke into fresh, crisp air, praying he won't come in and see the mess she's made.

But Rumple has a good nose, and a good pair of ears, and a good pair of eyes, and he knows when something is on fire in his own castle.

He eases into the kitchen to find pots and pans and bowls all spread out on the counters, the sink dripping and the pot on the stove erupting with hazy smoke as Belle tries desperately to put the fire out, orange flames licking up the sides of the pot, and Rumple frowns.

He hopes she doesn't burn herself.

And it is that thought, not the idea of Belle burning his home down, that takes Rumplestiltskin by surprise, the notion that he could _care_ for her safety, be _concerned_ about her. It's unthinkable, and yet he thinks about it, thinks about it for so long that the fire grows more and more until Belle shrieks in pain, ripping her hand away from the stove, shaking her hand in the air.

Rumple leaps into action, the fire simmering with a snap of his fingers, and Belle stares at him, a _wounded _mouse this time, her ocean eyes wide and shining with pain as she clutches her hand. He holds out his own, black nails pointing at her, and she reluctantly puts her injured hand in his, purple magic snaking along the burn, making Belle sigh in relief.

She pulls her hand back, inspecting the pale skin that had just been an angry pink, and sends him a grateful smile.

Rumplestiltskin, feared Dark One in all the realms, will never readily admit the way his heart picked up speed at the sight.

**Please R&R! :)**


	39. Insanity

The walls are so white that they become blue, morphing before the girl's very eyes. Her hair is ragged, auburn curls tangled around her slender face, her cheekbones sunken from malnutrition, the paper think gown chafing against her skin, making angry red marks across her arms.

She wraps them around her knees, shivering from the cold sweeping in from under the padded door, and she gazes at the steel window cover placed at the top of it, wondering when the dark lady will show her smile. The girl curls her toes, listening to the sound of nails scraping against the sheets, and tilts her head. The voices whisper to her, shouts fills with fury and whispers filled with hope, and she slaps her hands over her ears to quell them, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself in the dark.

The insanity doesn't stop.

Flashes of dark eyed monsters linger behind her eyelids, hazy images of golden dresses and red roses, the ghost of butterflies in her stomach as invisible lips press against hers. She can almost taste it-

No. She can't. Nothing is real, nothing is real.

Her thoughts turn into shouts and she bangs on the bed, her face red with frustration.

Why can't she go there? Why can't she go to the fantasy place inside her head, where she's not crazy, where it's safe?

The girl wipes tears away with shaking fingers, the memory of a blue eyed beauty haunting her.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	40. Scarf

The shawl wrapped around his neck is old, thin and fraying at the edges, and yet he holds it close to his chest, digging his trembling fingers into the familiar fabric, blood soaking through the rag pressed against his wound as he rasps, trying to avoid the savior's gaze, her bright eyes filled with forced concern.

Family, he thinks, is such a wilting word.

It stays strong in the most _desperate_ of times, but fades into a meaningless sound in the silence, echoing in your head, bouncing against the walls of your _desperately_ beating heart. _Desperation_, he thinks, is stronger. It cuts the ties of blood and bravery in one swing, shaping people into traitors and cowards.

Shaping him, more like, he recalls, closing his eyes against the memory of a small hand wrapped in his, green light glowing up at him, the woes of his cowardly _desperation_ severing his ties, taking the only thing he's ever cherished, a small hand falling away from his as the cries of a broken promise lie heavy in the air.

Gold lets his mind wander, to the bright eyes staring down at him, an oath of salvation written there as he looks away, her determination reminding him far too much of the determination in blue eyes he once stared into, soft lips pressed against his in blind, all-consuming love.

The poison spreads, he can feel it in his veins, and with it comes a wave of pain that makes his breath shaky, sweat dripping down his face as he tries to quell the blood soaking into the scarf he wears, a soft reminder of laughter that floated in the halls, of green eyes that looked up at him with nothing but love and adoration, old, familiar fabric fraying at the edges, just as his life does now, an old life that's finally coming to a close, tattered edges unraveling before his very eyes.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	41. Rust

She walks in line with the cracks in the wooden floorboards, the sides of her feet even with the small lines, and drags her fingertips across the tops of the cases, her blue eyes flicking over to every interesting item she sees, wondering how one man can collect so much stuff, so many small trinkets that are meaningless at first glance.

But the woman within her, the woman who dared tame a beast, whispers in her ear, murmuring encouraging words, convincing her that she needs to stop, that she needs to look to her left, needs more than anything to gaze at the small necklace nestled between ruby red slippers.

The woman blinks, tilting her head, and stands there, frozen, as a flash of golden fabric and high pitched giggles assaults her mind. It's gone before she can take her next breath and she sighs, wondering how she'll ever be able to find herself again, especially now that the man behind it all is gone, the only person willing to tell her who she was.

The woman within her, the woman with dreams of courage dancing in her azure eyes, cries out at the thought, sobs in agony as sorrow rips through her, and the woman who doesn't know her own reflection sighs, the grief within her a stranger to her heart.

_You are a hero who helped your people._

She walks over to the glass case and the slam of a dungeon door echoes in her head.

_You're a beautiful woman who loved an ugly man._

Her nails tap against the glass.

_Really, really loved me. _

Curtains rip from the wall as she plummets down, down, down.

_You find goodness in others, and when it's not there…_

Arms wrap around her, warm against the cloth of her dress, large eyes staring into hers with shock.

_You create it. _

Her heart flutters, the necklace shimmering in the case as she closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

_You make me want to go back…back to the best version of me. _

The necklace is cold against her chest as she walks out of the castle, an arm wrapped around her waist.

_And that never happened before. _

Rust covers the necklace now, so different from how her mind remembers it, and the woman's heart swells with a fresh wave of grief each time a memory slips from her grasp, another moment stolen from her.

_So when you look in the mirror, and don't know who you are... _

The swish of curtains pulls her gaze away from the necklace and she swivels around, startled.

_That's who you are. _

Her wide eyes lock on the man standing in front of her, his brown hair disheveled and his shirt coated with dried blood. Her lips part in surprise and he stares at her, dark eyes glassy.

_Thank you, Belle. _

**Please R&R! ;)**


	42. Symphony

It took a lot to sway Rumplestiltskin.

The harsh shouts of his wife went in one ear and out the other. The blood staining his boots, drying beneath his black nails, didn't even make him frown. The warm body pressed against his chest, cold arms wrapped around him in the middle of the night as the wheel creaked, barely even made his heart flutter.

Barely.

When it did flutter, when the eyes of the miller's daughter shone up at him, it felt like music, pouring into his body and drowning out all the shame within him.

But the music stopped.

It came to an abrupt halt, leaving him bitter for decades, lonely and cruel, haunted by the memory of stoic eyes above a glowing box, love shattered and rejected.

Until Belle.

If Cora was a sunny day, Belle was the last day on earth, fiery infernos suffocating everything in sight.

If Cora was laughter, Belle was heavenly, melodic giggles floating through the castle.

If Cora was music, Belle was a glorious symphony, warm rays of sunshine upon his cold skin as notes of angelic proportions rained down on him, a true smile lighting his features.

She made him want to be better, revert to that cowardly man again, the man with a good heart and kind eyes.

And the best part was…the music never stopped.

**Please R&R! I found myself...feeling a little sorry for Cora last night. I've hated her this whole time and she spends one second with Rumple and bam...it's like anyone who sympathizes with him naturally sympathizes with his love interests. It's the Rumple Effect. BUUUT I am glad that she's dead because now the story can move on. (Poor RUMBELLE. My heart can't handle the feels.)**


	43. Insidious

Love snuck up on the Dark One far too easily, getting past his defenses without even trying, and his heart picked up speed before he could blink.

Love slipped into Rumplestiltskin's heart the moment he laid eyes on a dark headed peasant girl, eyes twinkling with desperation.

Love made his eyes glossy when he caught a maid as she plummeted from a ladder, determined to let light shine through his dark home.

Love made him smile when he married his wife, hands trembling.

Love made him cry when he held his son, a tiny palm atop his nose.

Love pushed him in front of Lacey, staring down a gun barrel with genuine courage.

Love made him laugh, wrapping his arms around Bae, tears of relief pouring from his eyes.

Love made him shake, voice horrified as he hovered over Belle, her body slung across the town line.

Love made him stumble, at a loss for words.

For an evil imp with a black heart, Rumplestiltskin knew love, was full of it, and love knew him.

Love, the most powerful magic of all, is the flip side of his own insidious nature, creeping into his heart when he least expects it, and for once, holding Lacey in his arms, Belle's laughter echoing in her amused giggles, he's ok with that.

**Please R&R! **


	44. Steel

Stainless steel was supposed to be a good thing.

It was supposed to magically solve all your problems, but when Belle took it upon herself to try out the stove, it caused nothing but chaos. She was toiling as she had in the Dark Castle, grunting and muttering angrily, covered in all types of sauce, her hair tangled, but her eyes were bright and he laughed at her.

Granted, they were probably bright with anger, or frustration, or annoyance, but they shone with all the glory of someone who hadn't been locked away in dark places for almost half a lifetime. She blew a stray strand of dark hair out of her face and gave him a level look, one eyebrow higher than the other, as if daring him to say anything, and he turned on his heel and walked right out.

The dinner was horrendous, of course, reminding him of Belle's first meal at his castle, but he ate all he could, going for seconds as she stared at him from him across the table, an incredulous look on her face.

He chewed the burnt food with a satisfied smile and if anyone ever said Rumplestiltskin was a bad liar, they were dead wrong.

If anyone ever said Rumplestiltskin was a bad true love, they were just dead. He would never let those false words reach Belle's precious ears.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	45. Lock

It was mechanical, all cogs and gears, and it was magical, purple wisps curling around it in the parody of an embrace.

Belle, curled in upon herself on the cold dungeon floor, stared at it menacingly, the echo of Rumpletstiltskin's giggles burning her ears. She didn't want to be a slave, or a servant, or anything of that monster's, and she definitely didn't want to be a prisoner. Her golden dress clung to her body, cold sweat making everything stick, and she shivered in fear. How could one lock look so impenetrable? How could he even make it look like that?

Belle drew her knees to her chest, heart pounding, and stared, as if willing the door to open, and gave a small gasp of surprise when it actually did. She hurriedly picked herself up and peeked out the door, her head cautiously sticking out of the doorway. The amused voice that suddenly cut through the air nearly gave her a heart attack.

"Tea time, dearie."

**Please R&R! ;)**


	46. Sanguine

Belle was not easily swayed by her heart or the fast beats it often produced, choosing instead to rely on her mind and her mind alone, her sharp wit and fierce intelligence.

If her stomach turned to butterflies flapping franticly for freedom in the presence of another man, specifically a certain devilish imp, she just shrugged it off as a trick of the mind, a foolish notion of her fleeting logic. She ignored the blood turning her cheeks crimson, the slight tremble of her hands when she served him his tea, the tendency of her eyes to wander to where he sat, spinning endless straw into gold in the hypnotic silence they always seemed to fall into.

She pushed away the daytime fantasies she found herself snapping out of, an annoyed employer staring at her, expectant. She ignored the pleas of her heart, the way it seemed to wake up at his presence, the odd habit of making her world go hazy that it somehow possessed, and did her job, stuck to her duty, and Belle convinced herself that she was content.

But as she laughed at another of his morbid jokes, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement and her cheeks turned sanguine with the hot blood in her face, Belle knew, knew deep down in her very bones, that she could never be content without him in her shifting, ever changing life, true love's kiss lying heavy between them.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! How about those promo pics for 2X19? *extreme excitement abound***


	47. Heart

Lacey was not, Gold was beginning to realize, Belle.

The woman before him didn't laugh nearly as hard, or smile as big, or look at him as long. There was no courage in her voice, no sheer stubbornness hidden within her words, and her blue eyes had lost most of their shine. She was a shell, an empty space that Belle once occupied, and deep down, the pawnbroker realized that Lacey knew it, too. Lacey sighed sometimes, staring off into the distance, eyes flicking from side to side as if searching for something long lost.

She gave the men around her flirtatious smiles, high pitched giggles and gentle hands laid on warm arms, anything to get their attention. She grinned easily, laughed even easier, but it was hollow, happy words hiding dark pain.

She was lost, as lost as Gold had once been himself, and the notion of Belle, his beautiful Belle, so confused left him dizzy with rage and sorrow. Her eyes fell upon him and lit up with some inner flame, some deep desire to know what she'd lost, and he tried to help her, tried to heal her shattered mind.

But Gold was beginning to realize, as he stared at Lacey hovering over a jukebox, face determinedly blank, heart wiped clean of any remnant of the love it once held for him, that some things could not be salvaged.

**Please R&R!**


	48. Moon

He had dozed off, by some odd miracle, in the back of his pawnshop, head resting on his folded arms, wrinkling his new suit. He didn't mind it, not really, the sudden, inexplicable urge to sleep he often got nowadays. The all too familiar pull of grief tugged at his heart far too much, and if he was honest with himself, which he never truly was, he'd go see Dr. Hopper to get his mind on track. But Dr. Hopper couldn't make it right, couldn't put him at peace, and he so very quickly found himself falling into the same routine; wake, eat, sleep (but never in a bed, never in a space he once shared with Belle).

She had very rarely ever come to the back part of his shop, preferring the light filtering in from the windows that were so numerable in the front part, enjoying the memory of many picnics, many smiles shared while basking in that light. And now Gold himself enjoyed those memories, relying heavily on his cane as he limped past the wall of curtains separating the front from the back, glancing out the windows to gaze into the dark sky, the fog of clouds making it a starless one, and his heart hurt all the more for it.

No light, nothing.

Belle's laughter followed him and he was tempted to smash a few more glass cases just to distract him from the sound.

It would never be easy, would never be right, and he sank to the floor, his cane thrown carelessly at his side, his head resting against the wall as tears trailed down his face, glinting in the moonlight cascading down on him as the moon peeked through the clouds, creeping past the windows as if timid, and Gold sniffled.

The moonlight…the _light_.

It poured down on him, washed through his senses with all the power of a merciless hurricane, and his eyes fell upon the teacup within one of the cases, carefully pieced back together with numerous cracks and chips across its porcelain surface, the delicate, baby blue design distorted and disfigured.

The light shone down on its glossy surface, surrounding it with a pale halo of sorts, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Gold felt a smile tugging on his lips.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	49. Pancakes

The pancakes were, admittedly, better than he thought they'd be.

The charred edges were delightedly crisp and the brown center wasn't overly gooey, so Rumplestiltskin considered the morning a good one. Belle nervously chewed on her bottom lip, irritating the deep crimson skin there, and he stopped mid chew, eyes as wide as saucers as he realized how he'd never seen such a shade of blue as the one within her unflinching gaze.

He'd thought, when he'd first taken her in as a caretaker, that her eye color was common, that he could look up into the sky and find that exact hue, but her eyes were blindingly bright, glowing from the inside out, and the sight made Rumple's heart pound in his chest. She hadn't yet had the nerve to call him 'Rumple', opting for the much safer, much more cautious 'Master', and her cheeks were bright red from the exertion of the kitchen and anticipation of his opinion.

He smiled at her. "They could use a bit of work, dearie," he taunted, eyes alight with mischief as Belle's chest deflated from the breath she'd been holding.

Her eyes lost their spark as quickly as a fire being smothered and she sighed, nodding, as she stood up from her chair at the table and made her way for the kitchen.

"I'll get right to work on them, then," Belle muttered, voice already muffled from the distance she was quickly covering.

The image of her blue, beautifully blue, eyes losing their glow made Rumple's face fall, his heart skipping a beat, and an odd terror gripped his insides. He stood and rushed over to her, nearly stumbling on his own two feet in the process, and stopped in front of her, plate of pancakes in hand.

"But I like broken things."

His smile was hesitant, eyes reluctant to meet her incredulous stare, and at her sudden laughter, his face nearly split in half with the wide grin he gave her.

**Please R&R! ;)**


	50. Memories

Belle finally decides that the worst thing about remembering herself is just that; remembering.

The flashes of their last moments, the cracks before the shatter, pulls at her, her laughter and his smile like a knife slicing through her. He had been so happy, then, and in an instant, the shine in his eyes was gone.

She can recall moments not her own, when another mind had occupied hers, and the images she sees hurt her just as much as any physical wound would. Rumple-or Mr. Gold- had tried so very hard to lure the Belle he knew back to him, but each and every time he found himself failing, and the light on his face, the light that she had spent so very long trying to see, dimmed to a faint glow.

It might not be as bad, now, to think of all that she put him through-if he were here.

But Rumplestiltskin is gone, vanished on some self-proclaimed suicide mission that she could not go on, and his absence cuts her as she runs her fingertips down the chipped cup's porcelain side, turning it over in her palms to watch the sunlight glint off its pristine surface.

It might not be as bad, then, if she did not remember every single moment; every loveless kiss, every cruel joke, every sharp smile and wickedly glinting stare.

If she did not remember the moment she turned her beloved Rumplestiltskin back into the Dark One, then perhaps, just perhaps, she could live with the memories.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! Sorry it took so long for an update. :/ **


	51. Flaming

Belle never particularly liked electronics, or anything of the electric variety, for that matter, so this new world was an entirely frustrating and all too annoying matter for her.

Being the guardian of the town was already stressful enough, not to mention being Mayor, and the added anxiety of Rumple's confusing house and all of the odd things within it made Belle lose sleep for a good portion of the weeks she had been living without him. She could still feel his lips on hers just before he'd vanished into the ocean, a swirling portal that swallowed the ship like it was nothing, taking her dear Rumple with it.

Belle had been thinking-oh so distractedly-about that very moment while waiting for the toasted bread to pop up with that startling sound, when she'd smelled the most awful scent.

It hadn't taken long for her to notice the slight outpour of smoke, climbing and billowing atop itself as it rose into the air, blackening everything around it. Belle had made a bee line for the toaster, unplugging it and just about ready to pour water inside of it-but that would ruin Rumple's toaster.

So, before truly thinking about it, Belle dove her hands into the toaster, picking up the two hot, burnt pieces of toast, ignoring the high whining of the fire alarm. She'd set them on a plate by the sink and had desperately tried to cool down the toaster, opening the windows to air out the kitchen, before turning back around to see a small flicker of fire on the bread's surface, orange warmth flaming.

The day had only gotten worse from there.

**Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! ;)**


	52. Diamonds

If the weather was bad, Rumple ignored it, and if the sky was spitting out hail and the wind was as harsh as all get out upon his face, he tightened his overcoat and continued to ignore it. If the clouds sighed, or moaned, really, then Rumple rolled his eyes, and if the grass crunched beneath his shoes, he just made a face at the ground.

It was like the world hated him, like it couldn't give him this one moment to kneel upon the ground-wincing because it hurt his bad knee no matter which way he kneeled-and open up a soft, velvety box, topped off with a black, lacey bow, revealing a glistening ring within, the gold band shining just as much as the jewel gleamed.

Belle was, naturally, taken aback, and the conditions outside didn't seem to distract her from answering his question with a joyful 'yes', a quickly muttered response as she all but tackled him, but gently so, aware of his leg and the weather and how tightly she was clinging to him, crying into his shoulder with happiness.

Rumple himself found a few tears rolling down his cheeks, and the small dot of elation that spread around his heart didn't go unnoticed. He just reassured his hold on her as they both stood up, and he winced as a ball of hail hit his head, and she rubbed the spot there, smiling as she got on her tip toes to kiss his pain away.

Childish, but effective, and it pulled a smile from him as he tangled his fingers with hers, heart pounding.

And no matter how much the hail hurt, or how loud the wind howled, nothing could deter Rumplestiltskin from pulling Belle to him with all of the tenderness he'd ever shown her, pressing his lips to hers as she wrapped her arm-the one that wasn't mingling with his own-around his neck, giggling as the hail turned into freezing sleet seemingly in a blink, but Rumple just smiled, captivated by the glittering shine within her blue irises, so very much resembling the sparkle of the most beautiful diamonds in the world.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


	53. Lucky

Rumplestiltskin, with the many years under his belt and the countless near death experiences he's scurried out of alive, thinks himself quite lucky, and to be able to finally find solid and common ground with Bae, and to be on speaking terms with the man, is yet another piece of evidence deeming him fortunate.

To have friends, after lifetimes without them, is both jarring and extremely welcome.

To have fallen in love, and to fall in love anew every day after, caught up in Belle's blue irises, is a miraculous blessing, and the phantom pain of Milah and Cora vanishes when she's near. When Belle kisses him, Rumple couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be, and the stuttering way his heart leaps at the sight of her is a new and exciting development.

And to hold their child, safely snuggled against his chest with the tiniest smile on her perfect little face, makes his heart swell with unhindered joy, and the shine in his wife's eyes, mingling with the chime of her laughter, makes the corners of his lips turn up uncontrollably, and it never gets old.

**Sorry that this is shorter than the rest. :/ Inspiration is...lacking.**

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**

***And if anyone wants to drop a prompt or word, feel free!***


	54. Turtles

In all of Gold's years with Belle, she had a propensity for hoarding animals, taking stray, wandering dogs off the street and into their home, or scooping up wounded birds to nurse them back to health. It was a rather tiring hobby of hers, one that cost him more than he'd like, and he often found himself making trips to the local pet store for food and the like. He'd come home to the sound of her cooing at a lost kitten, trying her best to lure it into her waiting arms as it glared warily at her from across the yard.

This happened at least once a week, so the man wasn't surprised to come home from a long and boring day at the pawn shop to see Belle stroking the bumpy shell of a small turtle, smiling down at its beady eyes as it poked its head out curiously. She cradled it close, and had bought a small aquarium and turtle food for it, and was murmuring to it in soft, low tones that pulled a smile from Rumple.

In the end, the turtle found its way out of the aquarium, and Belle was distraught for weeks as she thought about its possible fate.

He saw it later, of course, meandering around the yard, but neglected to tell Belle.

After all, he didn't need the smell of turtle stinking up his house, the scent only just barely fading from the air as it stood.

**Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)**


End file.
